The Universal Anthology: A Collection of the Best Literature, Ancient, Mediæval and Modern, 第 24 卷

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第378页 - OH yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood; That nothing walks with aimless feet; That not one life shall be destroy'd, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
第141页 - art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore, — Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" Quoth the Raven,
第146页 - During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.
第379页 - but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries, " A thousand types are gone: I care for nothing, all shall go. " Thou makest thine appeal to me: I bring to life, I bring to death: The spirit does but mean the breath: I know no more.
第227页 - Death has left on her Only the beautiful. "Still, for all slips of hers, One of Eve's family — Wipe those poor lips of hers Oozing so clammily, "Loop up her tresses Escaped from the comb, Her fair auburn tresses; Whilst wonderment guesses Where was her home ? "Who was her father? Who was her mother? Had she a sister? Had she a brother? Or was there a dearer one StiH, and a nearer one Yet, than all other?
第231页 - Work — work — work, In the dull December light; And work — work — work, When the weather is warm and bright, While underneath the eaves The brooding swallows cling, As if to show me their sunny backs And twit me with the spring.
第193页 - And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill ; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.
第226页 - Look at her garments Clinging like cerements; Whilst the wave constantly Drips from her clothing; Take her up instantly, Loving, not loathing,— Touch her not scornfully; Think of her mournfully, Gently and humanly; ' Not of the stains of her— All that remains of her Now, is pure womanly.
第404页 - Let us be patient! These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise. But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise.
第154页 - Banners yellow, glorious, golden, On its roof did float and flow (This — all this — was in the olden Time long ago), And every gentle air that dallied, In that sweet day, Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, A winged odor went away. Wanderers in that happy valley Through two luminous windows saw Spirits moving musically, To a lute's well-tuned law, Round about a throne where, sitting, Porphyrogene, In state his glory well befitting, The ruler of the realm was seen. And all with pearl...